Merlin Sickness
by LenkaJeneva
Summary: After a potions accident, Harry is now de-aged. To five. During the summer before third year. And of course it's an escaped convict on the run that manages to find him. And said convict is his godfather. How lovely. Dumbledore should be pleased.
1. Chapter 1

**I really need to just tone this down and do one story at a time, but, I am still working on my other stories, it's just, when an idea pops into my head, I need to write it down, and I'm already half-way through another chapter for this story.**

**It's mostly that I wanted to try my own idea for a de-ageing story.**

**I managed to get the name, "Merlin Sickness," by researching a few websites and finding that it is often used for the meaning: aging backwards. I adapted it slightly, since Harry isn't aging like Benjamin Button, but for all intents and purposes, he did jump from 13 to 5 in one night. **

**Disclaimer:** as much as I wish I did, I don't own Harry Potter

* * *

Sirius stared down at the child in horror.

He was pretty sure that this wasn't supposed to happen…

The child blinked up at him with bright green eyes. "Hi."

Sirius blinked once again, kneeling on the ground before the five year old… or what looked like a five year old. "Hi." He replied softly, watching the boy draw a stick figure in the sand. Sirius cleared his throat.

Harry glanced up at him. "Didn't your Aunt and Uncle teach you not to talk to strangers?" He asked softly. That was essential. If he had just up and left with some random person… they could've been a death eater.

But Harry shook his head before turning back to his drawing.

"I thought you would be…" he paused, as if wondering how to word it, "older…?"

"I'm five," he told him softly, peering at him from under his fringe. "I left though, b'for Uncle Vernon could get angry – he was really mad this morning when he saw me."

"What happened?"

Harry shrugged as the man scooted closer to him. "I don' know, but I was in Dudley's toy room – and I'm no' 'llowed in there… and there were strange things in there!" His voice rose, eyes bright, and he leaned forward as if sharing a conspiracy, "A picture was _moving_!"

Well… at least it was normal strange… not wizard strange… nothing too bad.

"And there was a- a- a cauldron!" Harry looked back at him, emerald green eyes staring in Sirius' own grey, "But it was bubbling and _weird_!"

Damn it Merlin! Sirius could tell what probably happened…. Harry didn't live with proper wizards, and he couldn't use magic during the holidays… but there was nothing about brewing potions.

But he lived with muggles who couldn't deal with the side effects.

Damn it.

"Anything else?" Sirius asked him before he could retreat back into his shy shell.

But Harry nodded, smiling softly as he glanced down. "There was a stick, and a blankie – it looked like a curtain." That didn't explain much but…

"Do you want to show me?" Sirius asked, he had to get the boy out of here… he was just a kid… he was – he should just admit it. Harry was an adorable five year old and Sirius just wanted to kidnap him and have his chance to raise him up right. Better than Vernon and Petunia could ever hope to achieve at least. "I could show you a secret, but you can't tell anyone."

"Really?"

"Really, really."

Harry looked up at him with curious eyes, as if silently demanding that he show this big 'secret' of his.

"But you can't tell anyone," Sirius told him, raking his eyes across the abandoned old park in search of any eavesdroppers. He settled his eyes onto his godson. "It'll be our little secret."

The child puffed himself up slightly, "I can keep a secret," he told the man excitedly. "I'm good at keeping secr'ts."

He sent the boy a warm smile before, without warning, allowing himself to transform. His face lengthened, his body curved, ears grew – and a large, shaggy, emancipated dog sat in front of a five-year-old Harry Potter.

The boy, for his part, was taking the change quite well.

Well… if well was the fact that his face may never be the same quite again….

Which could, in fact, possibly be true, seeing as Harry was staring at him with wide, shocked eyes on his slack-jawed expression.

Sirius padded up toward the boy, his wet snout pushing the boys mouth closed as if to tell him that if he stayed like that then he would catch fly's in his mouth… although the boy _could_ do with some food…

"Wicked…" Green eyes stared at him from behind overly large glasses, "can you do that again?"

He made a small huffing noise that could've been a snort, before butting his head against the boy's ribcage.

Harry frowned, attempting to balance his glasses on his nose, as he glanced down at the man-who-turned-into-a-dog. The man-who-turned-into-a-dog who was currently tugging at the strange robe-like clothes that the boy had found himself in.

The clothes were much too large for him.

"I'm not 'llowed to bring dogs in the house…" Harry muttered, but obeyingly trudged his way back to Number 4, ignoring the stares of the neighbors with practiced ease. "A'nt Petunia doesn't like dogs…"

Sirius whined.

"I like dogs," the boy amended quickly, not wanting to make the man-dog angry, "well," he added after a pause, "not A'nt Marge's dogs, but those dogs are icky."

He plodded past Number 6, unintentionally jumping over the line in the sidewalk as he turned toward Number 4's front door.

"Uncle Vernon's not home," he commented, staring at the empty driveway in confusion… he hadn't thought that Uncle Vernon had anywhere he had to go…

He walked to the door cautiously, the dog padded silently behind him as he attempted to turn the knob.

Attempted being the key word.

" 's locked…"

After a moments silence, the dog-man whined again, pulling the boy by the oversized robe once again as he made his way around the house.

Harry followed dutifully and a bit confusedly.

Once Sirius had successfully found the back door, he transformed back into his normal self, his dark, gaunt, matted appearance would have given several people an awful fright had they seen him. He tested out the door to be sure it was locked before waving a hand over it, muttering darkly under his breath the entire time.

The door creaked open.

The boy stared in wide-eyed wonder as the man crossed the threshold.

"Come on then," Sirius said, beckoning the boy to him, and Harry scrambled inside, closing and locking the door on his way, "you look half starved."

He lifted the child up easily as the boy finally reached him, and placed him onto the tabletop as he turned toward the fridge. "Anything in particular you're in the mood for?"

"I'm not 'llowed to eat 'less it's a meal time."

Sirius bit down his surge of anger as he rooted through the Dursley's fridge. "You're allowed to eat if I say you're allowed to eat," he finally settled on saying as he took a jar of jam off the top shelf. "And I say you're allowed to eat.

"Err… actually, where's the bread and peanut butter?"

Harry silently pointed to the cupboard above the fridge. Sirius opened the small wooden doors, thought for a moment, then took both loafs of bread, and a couple of jars of peanut butter, plus several other snacks (chips, pop tarts, cookies, etc). He placed the food onto the kitchen table beside the jam.

"Why don't you show me the… weird stuff, Harry?" Sirius grabbed a cookie, ushering his godson up the stairs despite his protests, "It can't be too bad," he told him, shoving the cookie into his mouth.

It tasted heavenly.

"I'm not 'llowed in Dudley's toy room." The boy said finally stopping in front of a white painted door with several heavy locks. On the outside.

Sirius didn't like the implications of those locks.

"It'll be fine," he told the boy, kneeling beside him, "they don't even have to know that we went in there."

"Pinky promise?"

Sirius blinked in silent confusion as the boy held out his right pinky solemnly. "Err…" Might as well just go along with it…? "Pinky promise," he acquitted with a nod.

Harry waved his hand around, pinky still raised, "you haven't pinky promised yet!" He locked his jaw as he looked up at the man with a critical eye, "and we've gotta lock it."

"Err…" What…?

Harry frowned awfully at him.

"… I don't exactly _know_ what a pinky promise is…"

Harry gaped at him. "You don' _know_…" Straightening his posture, he grabbed the mans hand, ignoring the dirt and grime, and wrapped his pinky around the strangers pinky. "You gotta' lock pinkies," he said as Sirius allowed his pinky to wrap around the smaller one, "an' put the thumbs toge'er." He attempted to reach the man's thumb, succeeding only when Sirius pressed his thumb against the boys in amusement.

"So that's a pinky promise?" Sirius asked once he'd been allowed to take his hand back.

Harry nodded, "and if you break the promise, I get ta' break your pinky."

Sirius, not liking the sound of that, nodded anyway, wondering _what the hell_ those muggles had been teaching his poor baby godson…

But he kneeled down, smiling at the boy, and nudged him toward the door, "How 'bout we go in then, as I'd rather not break my pinky, we'll be sure that your relatives don't find us in here then." He smiled affectionately, which felt rather odd on his face after so long in Azkaban, and stood, Harry giggling at his expression.

He grasped the knob tightly in his hand, eyeing the locks rather wearily, before pushing the offensive door open.

The room didn't really look like a teenagers room all that much. Shelves lined the walls, broken toys and electronics sitting upon then, and the untouched books seemingly gathering dust from the lack of use. An old digital (_"That is the word, right?" Sirius thought idly_) clock had bright red numbers practically screaming the time from behind the broken glass. A bed was shoved up in the corner as if were only an afterthought.

The only things in the rather cramped room that looked as though it may belong to Harry (unless his godson had some _major_ anger issues) was the Hogwarts trunk, still half packed, at the edge of the bed, a picture of James and Lily that Sirius had taken only months after they'd married, dancing, dancing through the autumn leafs without a care in the world…

But shoving the robes hanging out of the open trunk out of his mind, the picture that caused a painful lump to form in his throat out of his mind… he focused on the cauldron in the middle of the room. It was, indeed, bubbling. And blue. A bright blue… still smelled like gym socks though.

Harry scrunched up his small nose as he went to poke the cauldron.

Sirius grabbed the child's hand before he could, "No touch," he told the surprised child rather firmly, hand clutched tightly in his own as he pulled the child to the 'blankie that looked like a curtain'… James' old invisibility cloak….

Still holding Harry's hand, he slowly ran a hand over the silk-like fabric… "You've got quite a collection here…" He told him, setting him onto the bed before picking a broom up off the floor.

"Dunno whys that there…" Harry muttered peckishly, obviously not over the 'no touch' policy. " 's no good fer cleanin'…"

"Remind me to have a good, long conversation with you about how wrong that sentence was," Sirius told him, tracing the words _Nimbus 2000_ with wide eyes, "this piece of art is _beautiful_…" Not even twelve years in Azkaban could dent a Quidditch fanatic's obsession. If anything, it probably just got worse.

Harry, taking the man's silence at face value, jumped down onto the floor, moving to peer into the cauldron….

Before Sirius grabbed his hand once again, "No touch."

Harry pouted.

Sirius bit his lip, pulling the child back to his bed, and thought back to the food sitting innocently on the counter downstairs. He could take Harry and run, but he had no potions expertise – at all. He could leave Harry here, but what would await him…? The locks on the door (a _bedroom_ door) held no promises.

"Hare?" The man kneeled down before the boy, his grey eyes catching familiar emeralds, "how would you like to come with me?" No backing down now… although… damn – it was no use, he'd have to – "my mother had a house, she left it to me when she died."

It was more likely that no one wanted the house when she died.

"I–" the boy cut himself off, biting his own lip in a reminiscent way to the man in front of him. "I don't even– I don't–"

"I can show you why all these… objects," he said after a pause, "are in your – your cousin's toy room. And you can decide," Sirius swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry, "you can decide whatever you want to do."

He stared up at him cautiously, much more cautiously than any 5 year old had a right to be, Sirius hoped it was just a side effect from the potion. "What if I want to go hand gliding…?"

Sirius laughed in, what was it? Relief? Paranoia? Horror? Happiness? He didn't know. And he didn't exactly care. "We'll have to see," he said softly, "we'll figure it out."

"Okay," he said, rather simply, in that simple way that five-year-olds will accept nearly anything. A shy expression suddenly creeped across his face as the child ducked his head, peaking up at the man through his bangs. "But I don't… I don't know your name…"

Sirius blinked in surprise, a small pang of regret washing over his face before a soft smile was directed at the boy. "Sirius," he told him, "Sirius Black, your godfather."

He didn't think that the boy's eyes could get any wider.


	2. Chapter 2

**Yes! Chapter Two! Read, Review - it makes me happy. I have virtually nothing to do this week-end... well, except for an essay... I really should probably be doing that now... well, at least it's only the rough draft due Monday, if it was the full scale final draft, I'd probably be crying... Is it wrong for me to be wishing it was still summer and it's only September now? This is going to be a long year...**

**So, once again, I don't own Harry Potter (no matter how many times I wish upon a star, it'll never happen).**

* * *

"It's all cruddy," Harry muttered petulantly, picking at the pealing wallpaper with a frown.

Sirius nodded distractedly, peering around the hallway as he stumbled through the darkness, attempting to find a lamp. "Didn't think it'd be this bad," he muttered softly, pulling slightly at a small, dusty chain. A fire lit up in the grate above it.

Both blinked in shock at the lightened hallway.

"My mother went insane," Sirius said simply, trailing a line down the window. A thick clump of dust fell to the ground, the rest clinging to his hand. "Not that she wasn't insane already," he said, wiping the dust onto his robes, "but she managed to become even battier."

"Your mum died?" The child's voice asked; he turned to see Harry sitting on the ground, playing with the troll's leg that his mother insisted was an umbrella holder-thing.

Sirius nodded slowly, turning around slightly to better look at the place. "Years and years ago," he told him simply.

Harry nodded knowledgably, looking back down to the troll leg. "My mummy died," he said after a moment, Sirius froze. "My daddy too, when I was a baby."

"I know…" Sirius said shakily, having to stop himself from calling Harry 'baby,' guessing (correctly) that Harry wouldn't take kindly to that, "I was there, had to help get you out the wreckage…" He trailed off, turning back to the five-year-old, he walked over there, sitting in front of the child before his legs managed to give out, "but you escaped… with only…" he traced the scar on his godsons forehead, snapping out of his revere as the boy shivered.

He felt inexplicitly guilty.

"You found their car?" The boy asked curiously, the seemingly forgotten trolls leg rolled off back to the side of the hall.

Confusion spread across Sirius' face. "Car?"

"Car." Harry stated, rather firmly. "A'nt Petunia an' Uncle Vernon said mummy and daddy died in a car crash cause daddy was drinking an' got drunk and died and I survived." He peered innocently at the escaped convict, unaware of the horrified look on his face, "Wha's drunk mean?"

Sirius stared down at the five year old horror clenching his gut; anger forming in the pit of his stomach… all the while his brain processed the boy's question and he stiffly pulled the boy into his grasp, ignoring his godsons flinch as he buried his face in the dark raven hair. "They're bastards," he muttered finally, fully aware that he had a completely confused child in his arms and that he shouldn't be swearing, but he couldn't find another word that could even begin to describe those, those… _muggles_.

"Don't you listen to a word they say," Sirius told him, allowing the boy to lean away from him slightly, as he sat in the man's lap rather awkwardly, obviously not knowing what to do. "A drunk is a very mean way to describe someone and your dad was in _no_ way a drunk. And he'd never do something stupid enough like drink and drive with you and your mother in the car. He didn't even _have_ a car."

The five-year-old raven haired child stared at the man incredulously, awkwardness forgotten, "He _didn'_ have a car?"

Sirius nodded rather firmly, seemingly surprised when the boy's lip began trembling, "Harry?"

"So," his voice wobbled, "so, Uncl' Ver'on was- was _right_?" He cried out, his words slurring and tears beginning to form in his eyes, "my mummy and daddy were p'or and- and didn' _want_ me cause- cause I was too- too ex- ex- _cost too much_!"

"_No_!" He pulled the child back into his lap as he attempted to jump away, ignoring his as he stiffened again his chest, "never," he told him, burrowing his face back into the boy's hair; he was going to need a bath soon, "your mother and father loved you, and would _never_ think you too expensive, they weren't even poor," Sirius chuckled rather weakly in the child's hair, "in fact, they were quite rich before they died. You understand?"

After several long moments, Harry nodded against his chest.

"Good," he said finally, "good." But he didn't let go of his godson, he wasn't sure why, whether it was the fact that the boy obviously had no idea on his fame, his past – and he obviously had no idea who Sirius was (although now that he thought about it, it was a rather insane idea that Harry could be a secret auror in disguise attempting to draw him out and gain his trust to throw him back in Azkaban).

He still felt a small sliver of fear that he'd let the boy go, only for the moth eaten curtains to fade away, the boy to disappear, the peeling wallpaper to vanish, and he'd be back in his cell in Azkaban.

Not that he'd want the moth eaten curtains or peeling wallpaper to stay. As a matter of fact, this entire house could burn down for all he cared. The only reason he was here now was because of Harry. Speaking of, Harry was beginning to squirm in his grasp, obviously not used to random stranger coming up and sweeping them away from his Aunt and Uncles house claiming to be his godfather, bringing him to some old, rundown house in London, and hugging the life out of him.

Harry was probably second guessing his choice in following some random stranger somewhere… He really needs to teach the kid that talking to strangers was wrong.

Watch the next person that he talks to actually be a Death Eater.

"Alright," he said, pulling away from the boy, Harry scrambled back a few steps and pulled at his ruffled clothes, as if trying to gather some of his manly dignity back (although Sirius was sure that no self-respecting five-year-old really _had_ any dignity). "I've got some food for a few days, so how 'bout we try to find a… habitable room?"

Harry stared at him blankly, "hab- habit–"

"Habitable," Sirius correctly, "as in… livable," seeing Harry still staring at him in confusion, he elaborated, "someplace that's not as… cruddy."

"The entire _house_ is like this?"

"Probably," Sirius grimaced, grasping Harry's hand yet again, pulling himself off the floor. Harry merely sat still on the floor, forcing him to bend slightly so that he didn't let go of the boy's hand, "you coming up?" Harry shook his head. "… Why?"

"My tummy hurts."

Sirius grimaced, but dutifully leaned forward to pick the boy up. He gasped in surprise, but managed to grab hold of his godfather easily. The _Knight Bus_ didn't really agree with either of them. Harry didn't really know how to react to anything (and oddly didn't really ask all that many questions or really _any_ questions), and had trouble with the currency. And Sirius, well… he learned that as bad as the bus was for humans, it _had_ to be ten times worse for dogs. Not too easy to really grab hold to anything without any thumbs.

"Sorry about that," Sirius said, making his way upstairs, Harry's trunk banging against his thigh from inside his pocket, "forgot how rough the _Knight Bus_ was, probably should've warned you."

Harry sniffed crossly.

Sirius chuckled as he peaked into one of the rooms. He wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Of course," he muttered crossly, "my room _has_ to look like hell frozen over…" He turned up his nose, closing the door to block the musty smell emitting from it.

Harry leaned forward to look at the small nameplate on the door; he tucked at his godfathers filthy robes. "What's that say?"

Raising a brow at the boy, he smiled, "Sirius," he said, glancing at the nameplate before walking toward the landing, attempting to open the door with a frown on his face.

"What's that say?" Harry asked, warming up to the idea of asking questions.

He glanced at the little sign that his brother had put up years before…. "Do Not Enter Without the Express Permission of Regulus Arcturus Black."

"Who's he?"

"My brother," he glanced at Harry's confused expression, "He died also, before you were born."

"But," he glanced back at the sign, "we can't go in without his _permission_."

"We can," he said, testing the lock once again. He bit his lip. "You mind if I use this again?" He asked, pulling the boys wand out of his pocket with some difficulty as he tried not to dislodge Harry from his perch.

Harry shook his head in excitement, perking up as he watched the man point the stick at the door handle. "Alohamora," there was a soft click and the door swung open of its own accord.

Sirius nodded in satisfaction to the rather clean room before him. "Looks like the house elf is still alive then," he said to himself, "he always did have a soft spot for little Reggie."

"House elf?" Harry asked before he could stop himself.

The convict merely hummed in acknowledgement as he walked further into the room, closing and locking the door behind him. "Like a… maid or butler."

"Oh…"

"We'll just stay in here for now, although I should probably get a bathroom cleaned up…" He looked down at himself and grimaced, fully aware that he must look like a dirty, walking skeleton. And of course, Harry now looked like he rolled in something dirty. He shoved the laugh building back down into his throat as he set the boy down.

"I'm going to try and find a clean bathroom," he told him simply, eyeing the boy at the same time, "I'll take a shower then get a bath set up for you; how does that sound?"

Harry merely nodded his assent.

Sirius bit his lip, "make sure you stay in this room," he said finally, "and keep the door locked, don't open it for anyone who knocks okay? You'll hear me unlocking it when I come back, okay?"

"Okay," Harry said, nodding once again.

Sirius paused a moment, an indescribable look on his face as he stared at the boy-who-lived, his poor little baby godson looking so very lost and out of place in this mess of a house. He made to hug the child, before he thought better of it (the kid probably thought him insane as it was) and he turned stiffly to leave the room.


	3. Chapter 3

**I have actually been writing a lot for this story, although I have had most of the first chapter written for months now, I just really got around to writing it. And about the beta question, I have thought about it, I mean I'm not against it, it's just that my updates have been few and far between. I usually get most of my work done during the summer, since with school having started I don't have as much time on my hands... I have a essay due tomorrow and an exam on Tuesday... I really should be studying for them right now... ah well... **

**But I figured that this chapter I tried to get most of it from Harry's point of view (that's one of the things that I have to work on...) so I hope it's alright. Thanks Seraganth by the way, I knew my spell check was acting funny. And thank you for the reviews.**

**I don't own Harry Potter.**

* * *

Harry shifted awkwardly as his (apparent) godfather left the room.

It seemed too fancy… and _cruddy._

But the man told him to stay, and he didn't know how long he'd be gone (most likely a while since he had to clean an _entire_ bathroom by himself), and the room was _big_. Much bigger than his cupboard, and _loads_ bigger than even his A'nt and Uncles room. A'nt Petunia probly would've killed for a room this big.

Although, to Harry's disappointment, she'd probly get rid of all the nick-knacks that were scattered across the room. Harry figured it looked cooler this way.

But Sirius wasn't back yet, and Harry shifted nervously, eyeing the door, before tentively moving toward the bed, crawling onto it. Siri hadn't said _anythin'_ 'bout not exploring.

And the bed was soft and plush and _nothin'_ like A'unt Petunia's and Uncle Vernon's – or even Dudley's! But he stood up slightly to get a better look at the picture painted above the bed. It was bright. And it looked like a coat of arms, like in those fairy tale books that he'd once nicked from Dudley. And there were odd scribbles on it, like words, but no matter how he looked at it, he couldn't make out what he said.

So, giving the painting up for a bad job, he jumped down, bored despite the small reprieve.

Slowly, deliberately, he made his way off his bed, moving toward the bookshelf, which seemed to have gathered even more dust than Dudley's bookshelf back home.

He bit his lip, eyeing the books wearily; none of them looked at all welcoming. A few looked downright scary. Like those movies that Dudley would watch after A'nt Petunia and Uncle Vernon went to bed. Dudley _always_ got nightmares afterwards.

A'nt Petunia blamed his freakishness. Whatever that meant…

But one book was brightly coloured and squashed off into the corner as if the owner was trying to forget about it, but couldn't bring himself to throw it away.

The bright orange colour attacked him as he wedged the book out of the bookshelf. But it wasn't that which caused him to stare, there was a picture, moving, on the cover. And it was of little people flying around on broomsticks.

_And they were moving!_

It was just like that picture of Sirius on the _Knight Bus_, of course, once he'd saw his godfather whine, he pushed back any questions about why his picture was moving and why he was in the newspaper.

He'd probably done something _amazing_. You had to be amazing to be in the newspaper, his teacher said so.

He'd become so enraptured in the book and the moving pictures that he hadn't heard the door open at all, and hadn't realized that Sirius was back in the room until he chuckled from what seemed to be right in front of him.

Harry jumped, the book falling to the floor and a slight cloud of dust scattering around them as he looked up from his seat on the floor, fighting back a sneeze.

Sirius only chuckled (at _him_, Harry thought indignantly) again as he took a seat beside him and picked up the book Harry had been looking at from the floor. "The Cannons, huh?" The man grinned at him, watching the pictures fly and zoom across the page as if it were an everyday occurrence. "My brother used to be obsessed with them, always denied it though."

The man did look inexplicably better at least, Harry decided, attempting to push his questions to the back of his mind (he'd already asked _way_ too many), he was clean now, and his hair was washed and cut so he no longer had that weird beard and he had on (he still had on rather strange robes that Harry, himself, was still wearing) different, cleaner clothes. All in all he looked a lot more respectable than he'd had earlier. Either way his A'nt would've hated him.

"They always were the worst team in the league," Sirius said (with a somewhat devilish smirk, Harry noted), "but Reggie always did root for the underdog…"

Harry shifted towards him and watched as he let out a somewhat sad sigh before gathering up his courage and pointing at the book rather wildly, "but the _pictures are moving_!"

"Course they are," Harry frowned at his oblivious tone, "you wouldn't want to sit around all day would you?"

"But they're _pictures_!"

But the strange man froze before him, seemingly staring at him rather blankly before blinking slowly, "Harry," he said slowly, "what do you know about magic?"

Harry furrowed his brows at the question, "It don't exist," he said simply, completely unaware of the ticking time-bomb before him that was just waiting to go off at a moments notice, "leas', that's wha' Uncle Vernon and A'nt Petunia always said."

He peered up at the gaunt face innocently, watching him blankly open and close his mouth in silent horror. Harry repressed a giggle.

Before he blinked in his own silent confusion as the man shifted beside him, moving up and kneeling in front of the boy sitting pretzel legged on the ground. He seemed to tower of the child and Harry felt a small flicker of fear.

"Your Aunt and Uncle," the man said slowly, taking no notice as Harry shifted further back against the bookshelf; his godfather was practically shaking with rage… "are awful people."

But Harry knew adult speak (for the most part), 'awful people' was usually translated to 'I have a lot of really really bad things that I want to say about that person but I can't (unfortunately) in front of children – talk to me again later).

"Dudley's the berk," Harry told him truthfully, sure his Aunt and Uncles were both meanies, but Dudley was a bully. His godfather's blank look prompted Harry to explain a bit more fully, "my cousin."

"You mean that fat blob in the pictures?" Harry giggled, nodding at the descriptions. "I suppose that's all to the same, be glad that you managed to get the better end of the gene pool." Harry nodded, not really understanding what he meant, but knowing that he had something _better_ than Dudley had – that in and of itself was a rarity. "But magic," Sirius told him, moving back around and pulling him onto his lap, "can do loads of things, and it _does_ exist – no matter what your Aunt and Uncle say.

"I'm magic, your mother was magic, and your father was magic; in fact, we all met at a school for learning magic."

"_Really_?"

"Yup," he felt the man laugh slightly beneath him as he attempted to look up at the gaunt face, "_really_. Your father and I met on the train, became best mates pretty quick, your mother on the other hand made it quickly known that she'd rather ignore us and be on her way."

"_What_?" His mummy and daddy hadn't _liked_ each other?

"It wasn't until we were all seventeen that your mother started to even talk to your father, and they were married less then a year later," Harry felt the man smile as he burrowed his face in his hair, "they had you only a couple years later – your father had a mini panic attack when you were born, thought that he was going to brake you and started wailing about who would trust him with a kid. Of course, after that the Healers began threatening to toss him out on the curb."

Harry beamed, stretching his neck back once again to catch the man's eye; he felt Sirius move forward slightly and saw him look down at him, "Healer?"

"Erm…" Harry watched his godfather's face furrow in confusion, "like a… doctor – a magic doctor."

"They have magic _doctors_?" The boy looked up at him aghast, "Are they better than real doctors?"

"Depends," Sirius told him lightly, and Harry frowned in thought, wondering what he meant by that, "Healers are quite good at fixing up messed up spells and curses, but most wouldn't know how to fix a muggle disease either way."

Harry turned his head to the side quizzically, pulling at the frayed end of the black material of his robes. "Messed up spells?"

"Enchantments can go wrong if the person doing it is inexperienced, that's why there's a school of magic, to help wizards practice spells and charms so that they are less likely to blow something up – unless they want to of course. Speaking of…" Harry deepened his frown, his godfather didn't want to make something go _boom_… did he? "Actually not really speaking of," Okay, Harry wasn't sure if he should be relieved or upset now… he sort of wanted to see something go boom. "You need a bath."

Now if there was one thing that Harry thought _everyone_ knew, was that baths were not fun (except Dudley, but Harry held a firm belief that Dudley was stupid). Baths were often cold and quick and _annoying_. And, with that thought in mind, Harry shook his head.

Unfortunately, Harry quickly found out that Sirius didn't share his firm belief. The man had picked him up without a second thought, "C'mon, it's not that bad."

Harry squirmed despondently, shaking his head, "_No_," he whined (although he'd never admit it, big boys did _not_ whine), "I don't want one."

"It'll be fine," the man hefted him up to get a better hold on him once Harry's half-hearted struggle became a tad too much for the man, "It'll be over in a jiffy."

Harry sagged against Sirius' shoulder blade as he heard the door open behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Yes! Another chapter, and thanks to my reviews. I think my Soc. exam went okay... I didn't know a couple of answers so I had to guess, but everything else I was fairly confident on so, I think I'm alright. I'm just glad that I finally managed to finish this chapter, it's been halfway done for nearly a week, I just haven't had time with school work and everything.**

**I think I'll have Dumbledore in the next chapter (maybe Snape too). They're not going to find Sirius and Harry yet though. We'll see once I start working on it.**

**I don't own Harry Potter. Read and Review and all that jazz. Thanks!**

* * *

Sirius frowned worriedly as he felt the boy sag against his chest.

It wasn't right.

Sure, Sirius remembered when he used to fight the house elf tooth and nail so that he wouldn't get a bath, screaming, kicking, swearing (his mother had been quick to order Kreature to wash his mouth out every time he swore), and throwing up a storm.

Harry just squirmed, a horrified look on his face before he just _sagged_. He just fell against him like a rag doll that had been thrown one too many times.

And now, with Harry in his arms, he couldn't wring his hands. He couldn't keep himself occupied… Although Sirius considered that carrying Harry down the softly lit hallway to the bathroom down a few doors was keeping him occupied enough, he wasn't as strong as he was before Azkaban – if anything; Sirius was surprised that he could still lift his godson.

That didn't endear him any to the muggles.

Out of all the people that Dumbledore could've placed him with, Lily's sister would've been the last he'd chose. She'd been a little jerk back when Lily had first started Hogwarts, and it seemed (if anything) she'd only gotten worse.

And Harry had to bear the brunt of it.

Add Vernon and their little Demon Spawn to the mix and it was a recipe for disaster.

Sirius pushed that thought out of his mind and hefted the child further up on his hip, making sure that he wouldn't fall. "It'll be quick," he told the subdued child, "we'll get you in and out."

"But it's _cold_."

Sirius, who was busy creeping along the dark hallway, attempting to ignore his ancestors painting trailing after him, froze, shock creeping into his veins. "They did–" He cut himself off, forcibly reminding himself that they probably _did_, and hefted the child closer to him, "It won't be," he told the boy rather stiffly.

Bubbles, Sirius decided, were needed. Lots and lots of bubbles. And preferably a hatchet, machete, and hammer to beat and pummel those _goddamn bastards_ into a bloody pulp. Maybe with some bubbles added to the mix.

"The door's here," Sirius said, placing the child onto the ground and sliding the boy's wand into his hand – he'd really have to get his own soon – he unlocked the door quickly, listening to the creak as it slowly opened to its own accord. "This here's," Sirius told him, gesturing grandly at the room, "is the bathroom."

"It's _clean_!"

The convict snickered at the shocked tone. "Well," he said suppressed laughter in his voice, "I did go to clean it just a little bit ago." As Harry continued to stare at the surprisingly clean bathroom, Sirius bent down, leaning close enough so that Harry could hear when he whispered a soft, "it's magic." He didn't think the kids eyes could get so wide until Harry turned to stare up at him.

"C'mon," he grinned at the still wide eyed child, "let's get you cleaned up, huh?"

Turning, he opened Harry's school trunk (which was filled with little trinkets that he seemed to have acquired over the last few years; a chess set, invisibility cloak, a few cards and letters, dozens of school books, a small bag of galleons; but Sirius felt – all in all – that Harry didn't have all the basic nessessities, after all, where's the gobstones and exploding snap cards?), and he rummaged around until he pulled out a small pair of robes for the boy, and shrank them down until they were child sized. They'd have to work for now.

"Can–" Turning around, Sirius blinked owlishly, the shrunken clothes in his hands. He watched the boy bite his lip nervously; shifting on his feet as he stared up at his godfather… a man he's only just met. "Can I see some – some magic?"

Sirius blinked once again, slowly, before his mind sped up and he chuckled. He watched the boy squirm slightly in amusement. He didn't deem an answer at first; instead setting the shrunken robes back down in the boy's trunk. "Here, let's get this set up."

Harry slowly shuffled over towards him, rather tensely, Sirius noted, and helped him turn the water on and get the tub set up. "Do you want anything?" Sirius made sure to ask, he didn't know the child's bathing techniques – for all he knew, Harry may freak if Sirius helped or may not know what to do either way, or wanted toys, or was _suicidal in the future and it somehow managed to transport back with him and he may try to drown himself and – _(okay, it was at this point that Sirius told himself to stop thinking and get a move on, it was getting a bit ridiculous). "Toys, anything?"

Harry never looked up to meet his eyes; he merely shook his head slowly, deliberately staring down at his feet all the while.

"Alright then," Sirius said, sighing quietly, "watch this."

And without further ado, he whipped Harry's wand out once again (he felt horrible using, Harry didn't even care, but he was only five at the moment…), and a softly spoken spell later and a torrent of bubbles poured out of his wand and into the bathtub, splaying over the water that was steadily rising.

He turned to see the boy gaping at the multi-coloured bubbles. "_Wicked_!"

He answered with a winning grin, which widened once he saw Harry return one without a seconds hesitation.

The boy was too cute.

He wisely decided not to tell him that.

"Do you need any help Hare?"

Sirius watched as the boys grin faded as he nodded shyly. "A'nt Petunia usually gives me a bath… says I took too much time on my own…"

"Well," Sirius kneeled down, helping the boy out of his shoes as Harry began to take off his shirt, "you can stay in as long as you like, alright – we'll be sure to get you out before it gets too cold. And it'll be nice and warm, and I can transfigure you a rubber ducky. How's that sound?"

He watched Harry's small smile widen slightly as he nodded, but seeing as Harry wasn't about to talk anytime soon, he prodded him in the ribs. He squealed. "_No_!" He moaned out, giggling, as he attempted to dodge his godfather's fingers as they once again prodded his sides, "_Stop_!"

"Stop what?"

Sirius smiled way too innocently, memories of Azkaban washing away as he listened to Harry let out a particularly loud laugh.

"Stop tickling me!"

"But you haven't answered my question," Sirius said, giving him one last prod.

"It sounds wicked!" Harry answered, finally dodging his godfather's last threatening finger, "It sounds really _really_ cool!"

"Excellent," Sirius rubbed his hands together evilly, "lets get you all set up then, huh?"

"But I can't unbutton my pants," Harry whined softly, fumbling with the offensive button on his trousers. Sirius vaguely realized that this was the most that Harry had talked since he managed to meet and kidnap him from his home.

Sirius managed to undo the particularly unchild friendly button, wondering why they didn't simply pull the pants down as they were large. Very large. Probably the pants that Harry had worn before he had taken that potion (which Sirius had carefully tucked away at the bottom of Harry's trunk, spells upon spells on it to prevent any children from peeping or from the cauldron leaking).

"Woah there," he said, laughing softly before pulling Harry away from the bathtub. "You've still got your socks on."

He snickered when he saw Harry glare at the socks on his feet.

Sirius sat his bare butt down onto the bathtubs side, sliding off each sock before allowing Harry to climb into the tub. "Not too hot?" he asked once Harry had settled down. He moved to turn off the water, the loud screeching causing them both to flinch as the water cut off.

"It's good…" Harry said softly, playing with the bubbles.

They refused to pop, to his utter bafflement.

Sirius transfigured one of the god-awful replicas of a goblin head (at least, Sirius hoped it was a replica…), and transfigured it into a rather demented rubber ducky.

Sirius frowned at the distorted image of that muggle toy that Lily had bought Harry nearly as soon as he was born, a couple more try's had it looking vaguely like that bright, yellow duck, and an experimental squeak managed to draw Harry's attention away from the bubbles.

He handed it to the child with a smile.

"I know you have some hair care products in here some where," Sirius said, turning back around toward the trunk. Harry barely spared him a glance, too busy giggling childishly every time he placed the duck under water, only for more bubbles to pop up out of the surface, just as colorful and big and unpopable as the rest of them.

Sirius really needed to question why he put Harry's hair care stuff back into the trunk, which, although it wasn't filled to the brim, was still hard to sort through while trying to keep an eye on a child behind you to be sure that he doesn't drown.

Second thought, Sirius really had to wonder about why Harry had so much hair care products – or better yet, why he had so many toothbrushes with _Granger & Granger_ printed in gold on the side. Half of them were unopen anyway. And he'd have to reimburse any of the things that he was using that Harry had managed to collect.

"There they are," then again, Harry probably attempted to tame his hair, judging by all the products in his trunk, or he had a lady friend who attempted to tame his hair. Even Sirius could tell, that although Harry was five at the time, he already had his father's hair, Sirius felt bad for what the boy would have to go through once he had managed to hit puberty.

He spun around on his axis, Harry glanced up at him. "Alright Hare," he placed each of the bottles on the ledge next to the child, "let's get this party finished up then, huh?"

The man saw the boy open his mouth as if to object, before slowly closing it, nodding slowly, a frown on his features. "We'll do it again tomorrow," he said, planning on somehow fixating that transfigured duck to _stay_ as a transfigured duck, "you'll have your ducky and bubbles and anything you want."

Harry blinked owlishly at him, "a sailboat too," he asked, tilting his head back as Sirius helped to rinse his hair.

"A sailboat too. And a race car if you want – or even a train. You name it, I'll find it."


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay... it's been a while since I've updated this story - I'm sorry about the wait! I'm still waiting for winter break (thank God for winter break) where I'll have more time to do... anything? Everything? I'm tired, still have a Sociology essay (again...) due tomorrow, and I really need a good nights sleep. I hate waking up at 6:50 in the morning and having to be out the door by 7:00 (I'm really bad at waking up...).**

**Alright, I'm sorry, complaining session over. Zap, done. This is not my best chapter, if you see any mistakes, or anything that might be better if it were changed, please tell me. I'll probably come back and tweak it a bit later. But any flames, reviews, anything you want to tell me, go right on ahead! It'll make my day.**

**And, without further ado, my dear readers - I don't own Harry Potter.**

* * *

The unease that had been enveloping Dumbledore all evening threatened to break free.

The students were talking, walking, whispering, wondering… the invariable questioning would start soon. "Professor McGonagall," he said quietly, watching the students slowly leave the hall, looking around quite obviously. "Go to the Gryffindor Common Room and reassure your students, make sure they know that no harm will befall their classmate."

The woman nodded curtly, understanding his meaning. Dumbledore knew, without a doubt, that everyone (or, at least, _nearly_everyone) knew who was missing by now.

"Professor Vector, if you would alert the ministry?"

She, too, nodded; before both women hurried off to their respective jobs.

"Headmaster?" He turned to Snape, watching the man with a raised brow as the other head of houses hurried to their own House Dormitories in order to calm their fears or suspicions. "Are we sure that Potter's missing?" Snape asked with a sneer, "It could just be some elaborate hoax on his part – how to scare his friends the most."

"You would do well to remember that he is not his father, Severus." Dumbledore spoke softly. Indeed, young Harry could not be like his father in this event, if he were to willingly follow his destiny… "But we will check–"

"He's not on the train anywhere," Remus Lupin said, quickly striding up to the two men standing before the Head Table of the Great Hall. "I've checked and double checked. He's not there."

"I suppose we should check his residence," Dumbledore sighed.

"I'll come with you," Lupin was quick to say, worry tingeing his tone.

Snape sneered, "I highly doubt that we should have this–"

"Severus," the Headmaster spoke sharply, giving him a warning look as the last few stragglers left the Great Hall. "You may come Remus, but we shall try to finish this quickly. The quicker we have Mr. Potter back here the better."

"And if he's not there?" Snape questioned. He smirked as he saw Remus pale significantly at that statement. Dumbledore sent another sharp look at the potions master.

All three were silent for a moment, as if mentally weighing the words, before Dumbledore stood quickly, and took brisk steps out of the hall. "We will have to hope," he said softly, the soft twinkle in his light gone, "if not, we will alert the Ministry. Spread the search."

"You think Si- Black," the young werewolf correctly himself quickly, a flash of pain in his face, "took him, you think he took Harry – James' son."

"It's a possibility," he said, continuing down the corridor, ignoring the greetings from the various portraits they were passing. Both young men behind him sped up slightly as they neared the Headmasters office, "A very likely possibility – Sherbet Lemons."

The gargoyle leapt aside as the three men strode into the Headmasters office.

Said Headmaster swept aside, circling his table, his dark velvet robes fluttering about behind him, and opened one of the desk drawers. He took out a small, gold bag. "We'll floo to Arabella's," he said, his voice low, "and then walk down to Petunia's house. It's late enough that no one will notice the three of us walking down the street."

"Even so," Snape said sourly, applying a notice-me-not charm onto himself.

Relenting, Dumbledore and Remus followed suit. With that out of the way, Dumbledore walking past them, seemingly unaware of Remus, who, startled, jumped out of his path. He opened the small, gold bag and tossed a small pinch of powder into the flames before passing it to Remus. "Arabella's cottage," he pronounced clearly, spinning away, fireplace through fireplace.

He stepped gracefully out of the old lady's fireplace and stepped aside, suppressing a small grin as Remus stumbled, nearly falling, out of the floo, then proceeding to mutter about how this wasn't even a cottage.

His potions master had to side-step the werewolf as he came out of the floo.

"Dear Merlin! What are you doing here this time of the night?"

Dumbledore smiled as the two men behind him began a stare down, neither willing to back down, and looked up at the woman. She was bundled up, old slippers on her feet, and curlers in her hair, and standing at the foot of the steps, unaware of the cats that slipped by her feet. "Arabella, my dear," he said, quite winningly if he did say so himself, "we merely had a small question for you."

She eyed him wearily before glancing at the men behind him. "And what would that be?" She asked, rather suspiciously.

"Have you seen Harry," Remus said, who had, apparently, decided to forfeit the little stare down he had been having with his school yard enemy. "Harry Potter?" He clarified when her expression didn't change.

It still didn't change.

"He's supposed to be at Hogwarts now, ain't he?" She asked, curling her bathrobe around her more securely, "Its September first and all that nonsense."

"He didn't arrive," Dumbledore said slowly, "no one has seen, nor heard, from him in a few weeks. One of his friends had been worried when he hadn't gotten back to him in a while, and his mother expressed her concerns to me, but they assured me that it wasn't that uncommon with the lad."

"Well," Arabella said, eyeing the three before coming down off of the staircase, "it's not too much of a surprise, Vernon does like to keep him locked up at times, the lad might not 'ave been able to get out and catch the train. And his bird is rarely ever out, I'm guessin' so that's the muggles don't see it. It'd be rather strange," she added, as if it were an afterthought, "if someone seen an owl flyin' all over the place."

"It would be," Dumbledore acquitted, "but, you haven't seen him? At all?"

"Not for a few weeks," she said, nodding. "You don't think he's hurt do you?" The woman glanced at the three wizards worriedly.

Snape, who, Dumbledore later felt, he should've been keep a stronger eye on, spun around, surprising the others in the room and stalked out of the house. Remus raced after him, his eyes wide and horrified. Dumbledore thanked the old squib and continued on after them, his stride long and purposeful.

He sincerely hoped that Severus wouldn't murder anyone, Dumbledore mused silently as he followed the two before him.

The dark-haired individual sped down the street, ignoring the werewolf on his heels, as he approached a house. It looked the same as the one they had only left moments before. He heard Remus mutter something cottages once again as he peered over Severus' shoulder as the walked up the front stoop.

Snape elbowed him in the gut.

Remus wheezed slightly pathetically.

Dumbledore glanced the other way.

And, without waiting for approval, Snape knocked on the door. Now, perhaps knock was a nice way of putting that he curled his hand into a fist and pounded onto the door loudly in several beats before it slammed open forcibly.

An irate, obese Vernon Dursley stood before them with an ugly expression on his face.

"Where's Potter?" Snape spat out at the same time that Remus put in his questioning, "Have you done _anything_ to Harry!" Dumbledore, who hadn't anticipated their comments (although he probably should have), had popped in with a "May we come in?"

The three wizards, however, were not heard over the loud voice of Harry's Uncle asking "Who the _bloody hell_ are you?"

This led to a small embarrassed pause in Remus' part, an amused twinkle in Dumbledore's eye, Vernon's face colouring a dark purple, and Snape (who scowled viciously at being overridden) pushed his way into the house. "Tuney home?" He asked pleasantly, spinning around.

"And just what do you think you're doing!"

"We're looking for Harry," Remus explained before Dumbledore could pop in with his two pounds, slipping into the house quickly before the man slammed the door on them.

Dumbledore, on the other hand, was unfortunate enough to have the door slam in his face as Vernon spun around to face the other two wizards. He had managed to catch a glimpse Lily's sister at the end of the entrance hall, and tiredly rubbed his eyes as he gave a glance at the closed door in front of him. He probably should've just come on his own – would've been easier.

Pulling the elder wand out of his sleeve, he tapped it silently on the doorknob, watching as the door creaked open unobtrusively.

Severus was standing stoicly where he'd left him only a few seconds ago, Remus was attempting to calm down a furious Vernon Dursley, and Petunia looked as though she'd seen a ghost as she stared at her sister's childhood friend.

It was going to be a long night, Dumbledore realized, quelling the urge to rub the bridge of his nose tiredly, a very long night indeed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6. Finished typing it up today. I'll probably jump back to Snape, Remus, and Dumbledore in the next chapter, but we shall see where it goes.**

**Now, read, review, eat cookies, all that good stuff, and I thank you.**

**And now, without further ado, since I have posted this, I am going to scan fanfiction for the next five minutes before crawling upstairs and going to bed early like an old person. Really, it's only nine thirty... _and_ I can sleep in tomorrow too... What's wrong with me!**

**Oh well, I enjoy my sleep.**

**Thank you!**

**I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

Harry twisted in the bed; it was much larger than the one back home. It wouldn't even fit inside of his cupboard, he was sure of that.

He shifted onto his right side so that he was facing Sirius' chest.

His godfather was sleeping.

Harry could tell, his chest was rising and falling and he was breathing deeply – that always meant that the person was sleeping. And Sirius was sleeping.

It was strange….

He wasn't used to sharing a bed with anyone, even less so of having a bed to share with someone, or even someone willing enough to share their bed. His A'nt and Uncle hated it when he used to ask to sleep with them or he had a nightmare. Slightly upset, he turned back onto his left side, tired of watching Sirius' chest rise and fall, and stared at the bed post in consternation.

He couldn't sleep. And it wasn't from lack of trying. Everything was so strange.

This godfather, that he never knew that he had before, showed up, and _was nice to him_ – Harry! It was practically never even heard of. And the man seemed to generally like him.

Harry was beginning to wonder if Dudley managed to set all this up as a joke, his mummy and daddy would probably help him if they thought that it would make him happy. They'd do anything to make their little Dudder's happy…

He kicked his foot out, watching as it emerged from the covers before kicking his other foot out. He wiggled his toes as he stared at his bare feet hanging off the mattress.

With a sigh, he moved as though to sit up before he felt an arm encircling his stomach and pulling him back against the solid chest behind him. Harry held his breath, horrified at being caught awake at this time of night.

He made a small noise of protest in the back of his throat as his godfather pulled him further up against his chest. Sirius' merely responded by tucking Harry's head beneath his chin. "You were moving around quite a bit," Sirius said clearly, squeezing him slightly, "can't you sleep?"

Harry bit his lip at the concerned tone that Sirius expressed and moved as though to look up at him before realizing his head was still tucked beneath Sirius' chin. He settled for shaking his head, not moving from the cocoon that Sirius trapped them inside of. When Harry didn't receive an answer, he wiggled his free toes once again, "no," he mumbled quietly.

"Bring your feet under the comforter," Sirius said, lifting the blankets up slightly as he let go of the boy, "you'll catch your death that way."

The child obediently pulled his feet back underneath the covers before turning around slowly and peering up at the man. The shadows obscured most of his face, making it difficult for Harry to see his features, even more so since he wasn't wearing his glasses.

But he was able to see the man smiling somewhat softly, or so it seemed, at him in the darkness, and Harry, accordingly, smiled shyly back at him.

"What's wrong Hare?" he heard the man ask softly, wonderingly, as he ran a hand through the child's hair.

Harry made an annoyed facial expression, which only served Sirius to chuckle softly as he pulled his hand away from the child's hair. "You alright Hare-Bear?" He asked, pulling the child closer to him once more.

Harry wiggled his toes and, shocking even himself, took a plunge and buried his face in his godfather's chest. His one hand clutched at the blue pajama's that the man was wearing while his other hand circled the man's thin waist, holding on for dear life as he tried to suppress the sobs rising in his throat.

He felt Sirius stiffen slightly at the contact before placing a hand in the five-year-old's hair. "Hare?"

"It's weird" Harry heard himself answer, his voice muffled by the cloth before him. A small feeling of guilt washed over him and he moved as though to push himself away before being stopped by the hand on his back. He glanced up at the man, wiping the snot and tears away with his own pajama sleeve. "It's _weird_!" He repeated, somewhat hysterically.

Harry sniffled once again as Sirius patiently ran a hand through the boys hair again, "What's weird kiddo?"

"You." The childish reply left Harry's lips before he could stop it.

He froze, horrified, and held his breath, staring at the chest before him blankly as he attempted to open his mouth, to say something, but his mouth seemed glued shut, the apologies dying at his lips as he felt the man pull his stiff body closer to his chest.

The deep, amused chuckle that escaped the man's lip was the last thing that Harry had expected.

He relaxed his muscles ever so slightly.

"I know I'm weird," Sirius answered him smoothly, easily. "There are many weird things about me, so tell me," he ran a hand through Harry's hair, "which ones caught your attention?"

Blinking slowly, unsure of how to answer, Harry buried his face in his godfather's chest once again; silent for a long moment, the soft song that Sirius had begun to hum ringing in his ears as the hand once again ran through his hair. He blinked again, tiredly, barely attempting to keep his eyes open before finally answering with a soft, "you like me…"

He was too far gone at that point to feel his godfather stiffen.

Sirius on the other hand, completely froze with the child wrapped up in his arms.

He'd had the child for a month. Well, nearly a month. He thinks. Sirius hadn't quite managed to find a calendar yet, but he's working on it. If he'd had to guess, Hogwarts had probably started, or would soon. Summer was fast approaching its end, if the children on the streets had anything to say about their last minute homework on the sidewalk or the ice cream man slowly coming around less and less…

But his godson thought that he was weird because_ he liked him_.

If he wasn't worried about leaving Harry here alone with Kreature, then he most assuredly would have gone and actually become the mass-murderer that everyone believed him to be – he had a reputation to live up to after all.

The only problem with that plan was that Harry was terrified of Kreature, with good reason, Sirius had to point out to himself, and there was, more than likely, a hundred and one people looking for Harry by now. Really? Sirius Black escapes from Azkaban and merely weeks later, Harry Potter disappears from his home? The boy-who-lived?

Sirius wouldn't be surprised if the public screamed anarchy enough and they begin to have vigilantes out looking for the lad.

Not that they'd get past the Black Family Wards.

Except maybe Narcissa…

He'd have to update the wards soon…

Sirius pulled the small child closer to him.

Hell would freeze over before he'd let him go. He had half a mind to just leave Harry like this… to raise him up right, give him a better childhood than it seems as though he'd have.

Sirius could raise him the way that James and Lily would've wanted him to be raised. One of those little devils that was too smart and too sweet to actually pin anything on him. James had Harry's maraudering years all planned out. Lily had Harry's complete academics all planned out. Put them together… it was a frightening idea.

He ran his hair through the complete mess once again, a habit that he'd just seemed to have with the child's hair. It'd been annoying Harry all week, Sirius could tell, but he couldn't bring himself to stop, and Harry hadn't complained once…

Sirius sighed.

As much as he loved having Harry here, it was all wrong. Harry wasn't supposed to be this trusting to a complete stranger (really, what were his relatives teaching him? He just upped and walked away with some random bloke that he'd met in the park – that was a big no-no). And, though Sirius wasn't supposed to be a stranger to the child, he was, and he realized that.

Just as much as the child was a stranger to him.

Not in that sense really, since he'd known the child for the kid's whole life, and he'd had the child for a month (give or take) now, he probably knew more than most people about his early childhood.

The older teenager that he was supposed to be, now that was a stranger to him. All he knew was that he had a broom, a wand, the cloak, potion supplies (and he apparently took Care of Magical Creatures and Divination for his third year electives… he'd have to talk to him about those choices), and a strange penchant for tooth brushes and sugar free sweets….

He wasn't sure why he had a stash of sugar free sweets at the bottom of his trunk, but it was better than nothing, especially since the food he'd stolen from the Dursley's was running out.

Sirius figured that it'd be safe enough for Kreature to go to Diagon Alley, with a million and one orders to ensure his faithfulness and ability to keep his trap shut. But they'd get to that problem when they got to it.

With a soft sigh, he glanced down at the child again, a small smile lighting his features despite himself. The boy was too cute. Adorable really. He couldn't be sure how James and Lily had created him, even less so of _why_ they decided to trust the child's life in his hands. Rotten job of that he'd done…

Harry was cleaned up nicely though, the Ducky doing wonders for bath-time, and he was dressed in one of Regulus' old pajama's from when he was a child. They fit Harry quite nicely.

This had to be the first time that Sirius was glad that his mother, 'noble' though she was, was a complete hoarder, and that his father was paranoid enough to not toss anything out in fear that it could come back to bit the family in the ass. It had once gotten so bad that his father had even refused to let the trash be taken out due to the fact that anyone could get a hold of their spit if they look in the right places.

A couple of weeks of swimming in garbage put a quick stop to that plan, thankfully.

The only objection that Sirius had about the pajamas was that they were green. Slytherin colors. It was just awful (not that he could say anything due to the fact that all the pajamas that Sirius had worn as a child were of the same nature). But, as Sirius had told Harry once he'd managed to convince the child that it was okay to wear these clothes, and that they weren't really new, the pajamas managed to bring out the child's eyes, Lily's eyes…

She'd always had a wonderful shade of green for her eye color. James had been so excited once he'd realized that Harry had developed that same color.

Back in forth year, he remembered James promising that one day, Lily would be his, and that they would have a child, and that he didn't care what the child looked like, as long as the kid had her eyes.

Then again, James had been a hopeless romantic for his entire life, so he had been entitled to saying hideously sweet things like that.

The highlight was when Lily would hex him soon afterward.

He clutched at the child's body tighter, resting his head on the boy's hair as he listened to the soft breaths (in and out, in and out…). This child was the embodiment of both of his late friends, and he'd done nothing for the small creature that he held in his hands, absolutely _nothing_. It was with this thought that Sirius looked down at his godson, the closest thing that he would ever have to a son, and silently vowed to make sure that _nothing_ would harm the child again.


	7. Chapter 7

**Just have to say, I went to the Quidditch World Cup last weekend - it was awesome. And very funny. There's something that makes me laugh at a bunch of guys running around with a broomstick between their legs. Wouldn't that hurt...?**

**But, besides that, they had the people from _A Very Potter Musical_ come later in the day and act a little and answer the questions, and they were the people that played Snape and Bellatrix. It was amazing. I loved it. -squeals-**

**The food situation was horrible though, apparently the lines for food were anywhere from an hour to three hours, my only saving grace was that one of the guys from the band Harry and the Potters was selling "snitchwiches" pretty much peanut butter sandwiches with... some type of cereal... on it. It was delicious, and, by three in the afternoon, I was ready for food.**

**But enough about that (even though it was awesome), onto the chapter, and back to Snape, Remus, and Dumbledore.**

* * *

"So what you're saying," Snape said slowly, shooting an angry glare as the werewolf began to hyperventilate, it was interrupting his train of thought, "is that," he continued swiftly, quelling the urge to kick the werewolf, "Potter was a- a–" Apparently he couldn't get his thoughts in order that quickly, he gave into the urge to kicking the werewolf.

And, afterwards, quickly ignored the stern look that the Headmaster was giving him, as if_ he_ was the one who was, apparently only –

"Harry's _five_!"

Huh, what do you know, Lupin actually _can_ think.

Snape opened his mouth, to say what, he wasn't even sure, before Dumbledore started with, "And… when did you last see Mister Potter? Do you know how he became…" he paused, acting as though he was completely unaware of Severus' evil glare of doom, and as if unsure (although he probably _was_ unsure) of how to put it in context, "five."

The older Dursley male, who was purpling quickly in anger, gave the werewolf another horrified look before plunging forward, "No I do not!" He hollered angrily, "I went up there, and he was a little twerp, five years old or something!"

"Vernon didn't know what had happened," 'Tuna put in, giving her husband a quivering look, "He got angry, horrified, confused, but before he could say anything, the boy ran."

"And you don't know why he ran?" Lupin asked angrily, leaning forward over the coffee table, Snape saw the werewolf's knuckles whiten as he gripped the table in front of him, "You didn't even think to go after him! To wonder where in Merlin's–"

"Remus," Dumbledore said sharply, Severus had to admit that he was slightly upset, when the werewolf got into action, he'd go all out. If he'd kept going, Snape probably could've gotten the last _Marauder_ in Azkaban as well. Then all he'd have to do is deal with the fact that Black was out.

But, unfortunately, as soon as Dumbledore spoke, the man backed down, although it didn't stop the wolf's amber eyes from glaring at the two spooked muggles before him.

That was probably one of the only reasons that the Dursley fellow hadn't continued his rant.

Snape had been sure to begin this explanation by very kindly informing the dolts that this man here was a ferocious man-eating werewolf.

It had the added effect of making Dumbledore look disapproving, said werewolf to be a cross between pissed and mortified, and the two muggles to keep glancing over at Lupin as if waiting for him to attack – it was strangely amusing.

"He's five," Remus said flatly, staring at them, "He's _bloody_ five!"

"For all we know," Snape cut in efficiently, not really in the mood to listen to the wolf repeat himself, "he could be thirteen again, and whatever spell was used on him could've worn off, and certain potions can achieve this effect as well, they will usually wear off in only a few hours, but it depends on how competent the brew maker was.

"Or, of course," he said, a grim smile forming, "he could be stuck in the form of a dead five year old."

There was silence as both the Dursleys gave him surprised looks, Lupin didn't even look at him, instead staring blankly at the wall across from him as his statement hit home, and Dumbledore merely looked older, older than usual at least.

"That will be enough," the old man said after a lengthy pause, "did either of you see anything strange in his room – or any strange behavior at all?"

Petunia shook her head, "No," she said quietly, "no, he kept to himself, barely saw him at all once Marge came over – Vernon's sister," Snape sighed, he recognized the signs, Lily had them too, she was about to ramble, "She came over for a visit, Har-Harry never did like her, stayed in his room, doing Lord knows what, and, nearly a week after she had left, and –_boom_ – he's a kid. I saw a _Goddamn_ five year old Harry Potter race out of the house. And then–"

"As interesting as this all is," Snape cut in smoothly, "we rather need to hear about anything _suspicious_." Knowing her, she was about the get started about what the neighbors could've seen.

The fat old lump started talking instead, his face still large and purple, and Severus was sure that he could see a vein on the man's forehead, "There was a- a-" he lowered his voice, as if to make sure that no one else could hear them – as if these stupid muggle walls had ears "cauldron in his room," Snape subtly straightened, "it was blue and bubbling."

"Blue and bubbling?" He whispered to himself, at the Headmasters gaze he subtly shook his head, "Are you sure that it was blue and bubbling?"

"I know what I saw!" The lump thundered loudly.

Snape threw a vicious smirk towards the werewolf one he saw Lupin wince at the loud sound. Excellent. The muggle was good for something after all.

"I don't know of any potions that would cause a person to de-age that much that is blue and it bubbles, and that is all you remember?" he asked, looking back toward the muggles, the question directly to them. He saw the fat lump shake his head furiously. "I'll need to research," he said simply, facing Dumbledore once again, "the dunderhead could've made a mistake when brewing a potion and it could have unforeseen side-effects, the sooner we find him the better."

Remus licked his lips and looked up, "Could that be," he saw the werewolf swallow, "could that be the reason as to why no letter went out to Harry earlier this year?"

"That is possible," Dumbledore said slowly, "but as I am no potions master, I cannot say for sure."

Sighing as the two wizards looked back at him (the muggles all but forgotten), he gathered his thoughts, "I'd be practical, in theory, but, every de-aging potion that I have studied usually has different properties. Most will allow the drinker to keep his or her own memories, all will allow you to keep the magic that you've stored and practice until this point, and some will have the memories locked, but not quite out of sight, just certain ideas or actions that will prove that he was, indeed, older than five."

He saw the werewolf blink stupidly before turning to the Headmaster once again, "What's that mean?"

Snape bit back the scathing reply that he had on the edge of his tongue before settling for shooting a glare at Vernon Dursley as he opened his mouth to speak.

The man promptly shut it.

"If he's kept his magic, like Severus is suggesting, and I mean his slightly settled magic from when he was thirteen and not the accidental magic from when he was five, than, regardless, he should've received his Hogwarts card. Since he was already enrolled, and had the magic to support him."

"So…" The werewolf looked as though he was desperate; about to draw whatever straw that he can take, "what if… what if he's under wards? And… and… the mechanics are all iffy and we- we can't find him because of that… what if–"

"Unfortunately," Dumbledore gently cut him off, placing his hands in his lap as if he was deliberating what to say to the worried werewolf, "if he was under wards of that extent, it would be most difficult to track him, and, these people would be quite wealthy, and more likely, paranoid, then again, we'd have to hope that anyone who had him under those types of wards would've handed him back to the ministry by now."

"Unless they don't know that he's the boy-who-lived," damn, Snape never knew the bloke to be so persistent, "they could think that he's just a kid, just some snot-nosed kid that was wondering the streets and- and- Harry Potter's not supposed to be _five_."

"Unless," Severus cut in mockingly, unable to suppress baiting the werewolf, "a Death Eater found out – it'd be perfect, boy-who-lived, five again, they could mould him into the perfect Death Eater, kill him much easier, no one would be looking for a dead, five year old, Harry Potter, as you so eloquently put it."

Lupin paled dramatically.

"Severus," the Headmaster cut him off sharply as he opened his mouth to continue, "That's enough." The old man turned back toward the Dursleys, a pleasant smile on his face, as if he didn't know that the two people in front of him were well past terrified, "Could you show us to Harry's room please?"

Nodding shakily, Petunia stood up. She walked stiffly up the stairs, and Snape noticed her husband not moving from his spot on the couch, merely sitting there, terrified.

He also noticed Dumbledore get up without waiting for an invitation and follow Petunia up the stairs, Lupin and Snape followed swiftly once again, and, without realizing it, Snape tripped forward as they headed up the stairs, Lupin's foot helpfully in his way.

"Does the wolf need to be trained?" he bit out sarcastically, "can't even control himself when searching for his precious little cub, huh?"

He watched as Lupin put his pale face up close to his own face, the wide eyes somehow wilder, and Snape blinked for a moment, "Don't you dare talk about Harry," Lupin hissed angrily, his eyes narrowing, "Period."

With that, the werewolf spun around and walked back up the stairs, following the voices of the two above them. A moment passed where Snape stared blankly at the wall housing a small picture of the two muggles that were currently in the house and a large child (assuming that it was their child) between them, no Potter. With a swift stare at the picture where Lupin's head had only just been, he swept up the stairs without a second glance.

"… everything was gone, all his stuff, don't know where it went… supposed that he took it with him… disappeared the same time that he disappeared…"

Snape caught a few snatches of the conversation as he walked up the stairs; Petunia was talking rapidly, attempting to explain, attempting to get out of trouble, attempting to pin the blame on someone else, attempting to make them understand.

He slipped into the cramped room that was, apparently, Potter's room.

"Nothing?" He asked, cutting Petunia off as she attempted to say that they'd only thought that one of his friends had picked him up, like last year. "At all?"

He saw Lupin's eyes roam the room before slowly taking out his wand, effectively shutting the Dursley woman up. "_Accio_," he said softly, almost immediately, a soft banging was heard before a few pieces of paper and a couple birthday presents raced out from under the bed.

"We'll take those," Dumbledore said, eyeing the possessions that Lupin was holding, "and we'll contact you when we find the child, we'll be sure to have the child home before the year is up."

For a moment, it seemed as though the woman was about to protest before catching sight of Lupin's narrowed eyes and wand clutched safe in his hand, and, horrified, she nodded her assent. "Leave," she ordered quietly.

Giving her one last, long look and, for the first time that night, Petunia fully met his eyes, and they stared at each other blankly before Severus' swept past before he would do something that he would regret.

The old coot and the werewolf would follow eventually; they were fully capable of wrapping things up.


	8. Chapter 8

**One more Chapter down. It's Sirius and Harry again. Makes me happy. I've only just finished this, and it's not even dinner time yet! I feel cool. But, I managed to get this last chapter out before Turkey Day so that's good, one quota made. **

**... I haven't started Christmas shopping yet though... usually I don't like hearing about Christmas until _after_ Thanksgiving. Yes. I'm one of those people. I really can't believe that they've already started Christmas songs on the radio earlier on in the month, it's driving me crazy. So, thank you _whoever_ for the reprieve that I managed to get since all the stations that I listen to don't start playing Christmas music until the last possible second.**

**Read, Review, Flame, Enjoy, do whatever you want.**

**Have a Happy Turkey Day.**

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"Cookie?" Sirius asked, holding out the last cookie that he had snagged from the Dursleys to the child hovering behind him.

Harry jumped slightly at being addressed before he nodded shyly, his raven hair bouncing in front of his eyes.

Sirius, though, quirked a brow when Harry didn't take the cookie (he was hard pressed to eat it himself, they were delicious) and wiggled it in front of the child's face. Harry blushed, and slowly took the cookie in one hand, keeping an eye on Sirius before eating it.

He seemed to do that every time Sirius offered him a snack.

Pushing the observation to the back of his mind for the moment, Sirius went back to prowling through the cupboards, "You have any preferences for supper tonight?" He asked, giving it up for a bad job as he slammed the next cupboard closed. Only a large amount of dust hidden in there. Really, they only had enough food to tide themselves over until dinner. Sirius would just make a couple of PB&J sandwiches and they'll be good for lunch for today.

Harry shook his head, nibbling on his cookie. He'd barely said a word since the night before, seemingly embarrassed – at least, that's what Sirius got from his silence.

Sirius' shoulders slumped, and he moved toward the table, dragging the kid along behind him.

It'd not do for Harry to wander off in this house and come across something rather nasty. He was pretty sure that there was a boggart upstairs in one of the desk drawers in the drawing room. Harry would be in for an awful surprise if he'd discovered that on an unsuspected tour around the house.

No, it was best to keep Harry where he could keep an eye on him.

… And keep all types of potions ingredients away from the child… there was no way in hell that Sirius was ever going to allow Harry to step foot in another potions class.

And this had everything to do with the fact that Harry had managed to turn himself into a five year old and not because Sirius had found a potions essay buried underneath mounds of books in the trunk with Snapes handwriting on it. It wasn't because of that _at all_.

Okay, so maybe that was part of the problem. But Harry turning into a five year old was definitely a huge part of it also. Definitely.

But, at the same time, Sirius already realized that he needn't drag Harry around the house with him anyways, the boy seemed to hover where ever he went (unless he was in the bathroom, although Harry had taken to enlisting Sirius' help on that task when it was Harry's turn to bathe).

"Pizza?" Sirius said, looking up questionably at the child still standing beside him.

Harry shrugged, curling in on himself slightly awkwardly before yelping as Sirius grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the table, "Sit, sit," he said, never moving from his own chair, "C'mon, sit."

Harry sat quickly, obediently, waiting quietly as he stared at his godfather through wide emerald eyes, sitting on the edge of the wooden chair beneath him. The child opened his mouth once before closing it once more and looking down at his hands clasped in his lap.

"You alright?" Sirius asked, worried, as Harry teetered slightly. The boy nodded quickly and Sirius bit his lip. "Pizza," Sirius prompted, "delicious, tasty, mouth watering pizza," he said tantalizingly, "Dinner? Tonight?"

Harry shrugged once again, still seated on the edge of his seat only a foot away from where Sirius was lounging.

"You do like pizza," Sirius finally ventured after a moment of silence, "right?"

"I don't know," Harry's voice was soft, and Sirius saw him peak up shyly at him, Sirius merely let out a small sigh of relief at _finally_ hearing Harry's voice; he had been getting worried about him, "I've never had pizza before."

The expression of relief quickly morphed into a blank expression, unfortunately. Sirius swallowed heavily. "Pizza," he repeated, "I believe that pizza is in order tonight. A nice big pie, maybe two."

The raven-haired child didn't react to that though, merely staring at Sirius; that strange quiet following as both of them stared at each other. He wasn't used to this _silence._ Even in Azkaban there was usually screams and pleas in the background, and Harry hadn't been all that quiet in the month that Sirius had him, often rambling (still with a soft voice, but at least _talking_) to Sirius about some strange book that Sirius had managed to find him.

He never had thought that a child's eyes could get so wide when Sirius had dug up an old copy of the _Tales of Beedle the Bard_ from his old room and given to him.

Sirius fumbled for something to say before letting out a whoosh of air as he sat back against his seat. "You've never had pizza?" he asked.

Harry shook his head. "A'nt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn' lemme eat any," he replied quietly, "they usually only had pizza when they took Dudley out for dinner. I stayed with Missus Figg and ate her Cabbage Soup."

"You'll have pizza," Sirius whispered, his eyes not leaving Harry even as the kid turned away, "you'll get anything you want, you've just got to ask, and I'll find it. I promise."

He watched as the boy swallowed painfully before opening his mouth and closing it once again. Harry blinked once looked away and looked back up at Sirius as he stood up. "Can- can we make cookies?" Harry asked, "choc- chocolate chip cookies?"

"I'll find us a recipe book," Sirius promised at once, "and we'll make the best cookies ever made."

The man leaned forward and plucked his godson off of the seat with ease. The boy gasped in surprise and threw his arms and legs around Sirius in order to get a better hold.

"We'll have lunch in an hour," Sirius said, hoisting the child up to get a better grip on him, "Peanut butter and jelly sound good to you Boo-Boo?" He felt Harry nod in the affirmative against his shoulder where the boy was burrowing his face in his robe. "We'll have a bunch of food in the cupboards by 6 and a pizza ready by seven. It'll be just like magic."

As if he said the magic words, Harry lifted his head up from his shoulder. "Really?" Harry asked, mystified, "it'll be _magic_?"

"_Like_ magic," Sirius corrected gently, feeling the bizarre urge to bounce Harry up and down like he had done when the boy was a toddler. "Not exactly. Cause I'll be having the hired help to help me out with it."

"And we'll 'ave food?" Harry asked, blinking up at him with wide eyes.

Sirius plopped the child down onto his own bare feet. "We'll have a bunch of food," Sirius answered, grinning, "as much as we need. Plus some."

Harry just gapped at him once again (probably just thinking about how it was _'like magic'_ – Sirius had discovered that anything even remotely similar to magic would gain Harry's attention, the kid was the idea of a secret hidden society that his parents lived in that consisted of Witches and Wizards galore).

Sirius' grin morphed into a small smile as he looked at Harry. He prodded the child's back slightly, prompting him to move forward and followed along behind him as Harry let a small laugh escape him.

"Onward Hare," Sirius said, "We've got to go tell Kreacher that we need some food" (more like Sirius really wanted the old elf to just die already, but, unfortunately, he was needed, and he didn't want to yell at the thing and scare Harry who found the elf fascinating) "and then I'm pretty sure that I have a deck of Exploding Snap somewhere if I can find it…" He trailed off; the deck was probably in his room. He wondered if it was moth eaten.

It was a possibility, might as well bring out the wizard chess set just in case. He couldn't be too sure.

"We've got a couple hours before lunch time," Sirius promised.

He saw Harry twist the shrunken robes that he was wearing, "then we can have PB and J?" He asked, his voice almost too soft, Sirius had to strain to hear it.

"Then we'll have PB and J," the man nodded, it'd be simple enough. Find games, play, eat, read him something, possibly, maybe sneak out for a few minutes and go down to the park before dinner, then they could eat dinner, shower and head off to bed.

Easy, simple, and somehow _too_ simple. Sirius had an idea that this day was going to blow up on them somehow.

Sooner or later.

Maybe not now, not tomorrow, but _soon_.

He mused Harry's hair unconsciously, humming softly as he thought, both of their feet padding up the old staircase. He blinked as he noticed that Harry'd said something. Sirius shook his head, "Hare?" he asked, blinking his thoughts away, "You say something?"

Harry stopped walking, staring up at him with wide eyes.

Sirius stopped beside him, and gave him a queer look. "Harry?" He asked softly, kneeling down beside him, "Something wrong?"

The child shook his head, black hair bouncing back and forth as he did so, and continued to stare up at him, his mouth stubbornly closed shut.

Sirius felt a small bubble of worry worm into his gut.

Harry opened his mouth once again, before shaking his head and (for the first time since they'd gotten here) sped away from Sirius at top speed up to the top of the staircase and ran into Regulus' room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Sirius gave the air before him a blank looking, silently wondering what the hell happened before his brain caught up with him.

He sped up the stairs at a frightening speed.

Of course, it was when he approached the door where he just _knew_ Harry was hiding in, he paused. Cause really, _why_ would Harry have attached himself at the hip to Sirius then all of a sudden just run away with a horrified look on his face.

Was he angry that Sirius had been spacing out?

Sirius bit his lip (a habit that he managed to pick up from Harry, because, and Sirius was sure, that he'd never bitten his lip at all before he'd met the child.

What if Harry didn't want to talk to him? What if Harry had been thinking it over and now he really wanted to go back to his Aunt and Uncles house because the strange convict on the run was not what he'd been expecting (although, Sirius doubted that Harry even knew that he was on the run)? Or, were his original suspicions correct and this was really an auror disguised as a five year old Harry Potter that was planning on turning him in?

Okay, so Sirius admitted that he was getting slightly paranoid. It wasn't like he though that Harry was an auror everyday, only when strange things like when he first saw a five year old Harry Potter when Harry should've been thirteen, and now, when Harry suddenly shut himself away from the world in Regulus' old room. It'd be the perfect timing to get Sirius caught.

He's on the run; give him a break, he's allowed to be paranoid. Especially when things were going too well.

Sirius tapped his foot nervously on the ground, contemplating what Harry would do if he stormed in there before abruptly turning around. He couldn't break the kid's privacy; he couldn't afford to lose the kids trust…

He'd just go downstairs, see if he couldn't find any coffee, and –

He'd barely taken two steps before he'd turn back around. He could not be afraid of a two year old! Sirius paused, grinned sheepishly at nothing, and corrected himself silently with a mental _five year old_…

But, same difference, he's still a little baby and he could not be left alone in this large, scary, evil-ass house.

It took another five minutes to actually decide and find the courage to knock softly on the door. "Harry?" he asked softly, opening the door slowly, "You okay Buddy?"

He was promptly attacked by a flying, crying five year-old.

"Hare?" He asked, utterly confused as he slowly began to pat the child's back. This only seemed to make the kid cry harder.

Sirius looked around the room, horrified. "_Harry_?" He asked once again, a note of hysteria making its way into his voice, "Harry," he slowly picked the child up, securely wrapping his arms around the child's waist as he held the boy to his chest, "What's wrong Hare?"

"I'm sorry," the child moaned out, burrowing his face further into Sirius' chest, "I'm sorry, I- I didn' – I didn't _mean_ to- I – _I'm sorry!_"

"Harry," Sirius attempted to sit the boy onto the bed, and tried to pull back before realizing that this just made Harry hold onto him tighter, and the boy managed to wrap his legs around Sirius' waist so that Sirius couldn't put him down.

Sirius made a small noise in the back of his throat, whether it was out of surprise, annoyance, or worry, he didn't know, and sat down onto the bed himself, "Harry," he said soothingly, rocking the boy slowly, "You didn't do anything, you didn't, it's alright, c'mon, look at me Buddy, can you look at me, it's alright, it's all alright. Are you okay Boo? C'mon, please…"

Slowly, but surely, Harry's tears began to subside and after a moment, large green eyes glanced up at him, his face wet with tears and his eyes red from crying.

Sirius felt his heart break at the sight.

"It's alright Boo," he said, once Harry let out one last hiccup, "It's okay, you okay?"

Harry nodded.

"What was that Boo," Sirius asked, almost afraid of the answer, "What was wrong, do you want to tell me, hmm? It'll be alright, I won't care, you know I won't care."

But Harry only shook his head, a worried frown on his face as Sirius saw him glance back up at him, still silent. Another moment of silence and Harry bit his lip. "I-" he hiccupped again, "I asked a question, and- and- it was a _bad_ question, and- and- I shouldn' 'ave, cause it was wrong, and I didn' mean ta in- in- to in-ter-up you."

"Interrupt," Sirius correct gently, "and you didn't interrupt me, sometimes I need people to smack my head to make sure that I stay down on Earth."

Harry gave him a strange look, probably wondering if Sirius would, indeed, float up to Outer Space, before nodding.

Sirius leaned forward, "So," Sirius began, "What was that question that you asked me?"

The child paused, bit his lip, and glanced up at Sirius shyly. "Are you my new Daddy?"

Sirius choked on his spit.


	9. Chapter 9

**This chapter wasn't quite as long as I wished it to be. Harry's Point of View for this chapter. On what Sirius has to say about being "his new Daddy." So, I hope that you all like it, I'll start my next chapter soon and attempt to start working with some of my other stories also. I've had a few questions about updating some of them.**

**And, once Winter Break starts, I will have tons more free time. So, I plan on doing more updates around them. Until then, I have exams, homework, papers, and tons of fun with all of my classes until the end of December.**

**Fun. Right? Right, thought so. (And great... now I'm talking - or texting or whatever - to myself... just excellent).**

**So, read, review, enjoy, etc... etc... etc...**

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Harry glanced back down quickly, fumbling with the edges of the dress (_"robes," Sirius had pointed out_), absolutely _refusing_ to look up at Sirius. He'd hate him now, Harry just knew it.

He didn't know what possessed him to ask that question, and he didn't know _why_ he repeated himself, but Sirius sounded so sure… Sirius sounded as though he wouldn't care about anything Harry asked him… and Sirius hadn't said anything yet.

Harry felt tears prickling his eyes.

But he _could not_ cry. Only babies cried, and he was not a little baby. He'd cried too much already. His godfather would hate him even _more_…

God_father_. Sirius had told him that he was his god_father_. Wasn't the godfather supposed to be Daddy once the Daddy had gone away? Like – like… Harry scrunched up his nose, attempting to ignore Sirius' sputtering and his suspiciously wet eyes – like that substitute that he'd had for school once before. His teacher hadn't come in so they had another teacher come in.

Was Sirius his Daddy since his Daddy wasn't here?

"I– I…" Harry stubbornly turned his gaze to the quilt, not looking at Sirius as the man finally started to speak, "A– a godfather is – erm…"

Sirius shifted beneath him, and Harry made a sound of protest when he was set on the bed, moving as though to jump into Sirius' arms again before he saw his godfather kneel down in front of him, and (unwittingly) Harry met his eyes.

He let out a small sob.

"Harry…" the man rubbed a hand through Harry's hair, and shuffled through his old, large, musty clothes and held out a small handkerchief up to Harry's nose. "Blow," he ordered.

Harry dutifully blew his nose.

"Boo…" his godfathers voice trailed off, and Harry stared at him, another dry sob escaping him. "A godfather is… a godfather does what a father is supposed to do… if the father dies."

"So you're my new Daddy," Harry heard himself ask, pleadingly, before he could stop himself.

He saw his godfather fumble slightly, and open his mouth and close it once more. Harry held in another sob.

"I–" He didn't turn to look back at Sirius, "I – I'm not your _biological_ father." Harry looked back up at him, confused and hurt, and Sirius, seeing Harry's expression, seemed to continue talking in a hurry, "I didn't help err…. Make, you."

The man looked remarkably awkward by this point.

"We're not _related_ per say, err… well, James' mother _was_ a Black, but, well – that's beside the point – I… err…"

Harry's nose prickled and he looked down, sniffling slightly as he shoved another sob down in his throat.

He was _not_ a baby.

"I – erm… I could be," came the hesitant response. Harry's head shot up to stare at his godfather. "I– um… I– I promised your father, years and years ago that I'd take his place if anything ever happened… and–"

"You want _me_," Harry's voice didn't break, he wasn't crying, he wasn't a crybaby. "You _want_ me?"

Harry stared at his godfather's unusually serious expression, "I wouldn't even contemplate choosing anyone else to be my heir."

The child, of course, had no idea what an heir was, but, nonetheless, he threw himself at his godfather.

He actually had a _Dad_ now.

Just like everyone else did.

It took Harry a moment to realize that he was actually crying. And he tightened his hold on his godfathers – on his _Dad's_ dress (erm… robes) as he buried his face in his _Dads_ shoulders.

It felt oddly liberating to say '_his_ Dads' – he wasn't the little orphan boy any more.

His Aunt Petunia's friend (Yvonne) used to call him their own little 'Oliver Twist' – or that 'little orphan boy'.

He felt Sirius – his_ Dad_ he thought in wonderment, he'd never ever _ever_ had a Dad before (that he could remember at the very least) – run a hand through his hair. Harry made a face. He hated when Sirius did that.

"Hare," he heard his Dad, clear his throat, "I – c'mon, let's find that deck of exploding snap cards, huh?"

Harry nodded against his Dad's shoulder, but didn't make any move to sit up.

Turns out that it didn't seem to matter since the man merely wrapped his own arms around him and hefted him up – Harry was quick to tighten his hold on him to keep from falling.

"My old room is a bit musty," his Dad continued, walking him out of Regulus' old room. "But there should still be an old pack of Exploding Snap cards in there – at least, there was some when I last checked, but who knows what my mother did with them when I left."

Harry swallowed heavily, sniffled, and pulled slightly on Sirius' hair in an attempt to grab his attention, "Do they really explode?" he asked quietly.

He felt, more than saw, his Dad chuckle, "If you don't play the game right," he said, "but it won't hurt in the least."

For a moment, only the soft footfalls were heard as Sirius crossed the hallway and opened his old room's door. It creaked ominously.

But Harry didn't have enough time to ponder on that as he felt his feet hit the solid wood flooring as Sirius bent down. He glanced up at the dark haired man in confusion, but he merely gave him a smile and nodded to the room.

"We've got to search some, and I've already cleaned my room out, so we're good – even if it does smell, we won't be attacked."

Harry furrowed his brows, "What would attack us?" He asked, voicing his thoughts (rather boldly in his own opinion).

"You never know," his Dad said, waving one of his hands around as if it didn't matter, "I think that I saw a Boggart in my Dad's old drawing room a few days ago. Then again, I know for a fact that there are some doxies in some of the curtains. Nasty buggers they are."

He blinked slowly, watching the gaunt man peer into his old dresser and frown. What were boggarts? Doxies?

Gathering his strength, Harry ventured with asking, "What's a bogert?"

"Boggart," came the correction. "It's… erm…" His Dad pulled his gaze away from his search through his dresser drawers and stared at him, "It's a creature," he said slowly, "Who can turn into your worst nightmare…"

"Like the _bogey man_?" Harry asked, horrified, reeling back and glancing around him as if expecting the bogey man to pop up out of nowhere.

His Dad laughed at him, "Don't you worry," he said, and Harry looked back up to him (just barely missing what would have been an uncomfortable trip over a tennis ball – why it was in Sirius' room, he didn't know). "They're ridiculously easy to get rid of, I'll tell you that."

He scrunched up his nose, and (even bolder, _louder_) asked, "How?"

Sirius hummed thoughtfully, and picked up an old bag from the bottom of the drawer before recoiling back and tossing it in the drawer as if it were on fire – he'd quickly closed it.

And, seeing Harry's confused gaze, grinned. "Dungbombs," he explain, "They smell horrible new – just wait a few years and they'll smell even worse. I'm not really keen on discovering how bad they smell after seventeen years."

"Like stinkbombs?" Harry asked, having had experience with stinkbombs more than a few times in his life. They smelt horrible.

"Those little muggle glass things, right?" his Dad asked, and Harry nodded. "I suppose so then, sort of like that at least. Dungbombs smell worse though, believe me."

Harry nodded, although, considering the description, he wasn't sure that he wanted to risk smelling a dungbomb (stinkbombs were horrible as was), and glanced back up at his Dad for an expansion on his earlier question.

A couple moments later, with Sirius rummaging through another drawer, Harry loudly cleared his throat.

His Dad jumped and looked over at the child bewildered.

Harry suddenly blinked at him shyly, "How do you get ride of a boggart?" he asked softly.

"Oh, Merlin, right!" His Dad straightened up, gave the dresser a dirty look and turned around to sit on the bed. "Like I said, easy as pie. All you've got to do is point your wand at it and say _riddikulus_. But you've got to think of it as something funny… Say… say you were horrified of me," Harry gave him a dubious look. "Just think of me in a dress, point your wand, and say riddikulus, and wallah – you're laughing."

"How would that get rid of it though," Harry asked, slowly moving towards the bed. He didn't make a move to sit down though.

His Dad smiled at him though, appearing to have another idea as he patted the space beside him.

Harry crawled up next to him.

"It makes it funny," he said, "less scary, and Boggarts are all about scaring people. You would be laughing hysterically instead of screaming, and they'd just go 'boom' – bye-bye. They can't take it I suppose."

"Why do they like to scare people?" Harry was, if anything, insistent. And, this was the first time in a long time that he was allowed to ask questions without repercussions.

His Dad, rather unhelpfully, shrugged. "I'm not sure, but, I guess it's the same as how you and I like to eat – why do you like to eat?"

"Cause people get cranky if they don' eat," Harry said knowledgably. His cousin used to get really upset when he didn't get his snack. They usually have to stop somewhere and pick something up for him.

"True I suppose," His Dad shrugged once again, "I guess they just like to scare people."

"Like the Bogeyman," Harry said, nodding.

"And, speaking of food," his Dad grinned at him, ignoring his comment, "How about we go get those Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwiches? I'm famished."

Harry tilted his head and gave him a slow look.

"Hungry," came the correction.

The boy nodded. "I don't like the crusts though," he said finally, voicing his opinion on the subject for the first time in years.

His Dad nodded at him, "Should've said something earlier," he said, and Harry grabbed his hand before scrambling off the couch. "I wouldn't have given them to you in the first place, and I'm sure Padfoot won't mind eating some extras."

Harry saw him give him a smug grin.

He, in response, pouted. "I want to turn into a dog," he told him.

"One day, maybe, we'll see."

"Why can't it be _now?_" He asked.

"One day," his Dad repeated, "I'll teach you to become an animal – promise."

And Harry slowly blinked up at him before "Can we have some soda pop with the Peanut Butter sandwiches, and I don' wan' jam either."

His Dad laughed at him.


End file.
